Page 57

“Keep going until the buildings look like they’re falling apart,” Alisa told the rickshaw driver.

The rickshaw started moving.

By the time Alisa arrived, the sun was almost completely under the horizon, only a wedge floating above the jaundiced waves. She idled before the building that Roma had described, confused and shivering with the first hints of the nighttime cold. Her gaze swiveled from the closed door of the abandoned warehouse to ten paces left of it, where a Chinese girl was looking out into the river. This far south, the Huangpu was a different color. Almost foggier. Maybe it was because of the smoke that drifted through the air around them, some from the nearby flour mill, some from the adjacent oil mill. The French Wate

r Works establishment was nearby too. No doubt that network was doing its part clogging up the place. Alisa stepped forward hesitantly, hoping to ask the girl for confirmation of their location. Her fur shrug was ruffling in the breeze, all of it some shade of orange under the sunset.

“It hasn’t started yet. Don’t worry.”

Alisa blinked at the Russian words, taken aback for a short moment. Everything made more sense when the girl turned around and Alisa recognized her face.

“Juliette,” Alisa said without thinking. She gulped then, wondering if she would get hit for using the heiress’s name so casually.

But Juliette’s focus was on the lighter in her hand. She was playing with it flippantly, turning the spark wheel and then quenching the flame as soon as it burst to life. “Alisa, yes?”

That came as a surprise. Everyone in Shanghai knew of Roma. They knew of his cold blood and his reputation as the careful, calculating heir of the White Flowers. But Alisa, who had little to do with anything, was a ghost.

“How did you know?”

Juliette finally looked up and raised an eyebrow, as if replying, Why would I not?

“You and Roma practically share a face,” she said. “I hazarded a guess.”

Alisa didn’t know what to say to that; nor did she know what to say next in general. She was saved by a young White Flower opening the door to the warehouse and sticking his head out, spotting Alisa first and then glaring at Juliette. The animosity wasn’t unexpected, even if they were supposed to be playing nice today. Merely organizing this meeting had put five of their men in the hospital after one of the messages being run into Scarlet territory had been delivered a little violently.

“You better come in, Miss Montagova,” the boy said. “Your brother is asking after you.”

Alisa nodded, but her curious gaze kept going back to Juliette.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

Juliette smiled. There was some hidden amusement in that, the sort with a cause everyone would wonder about but no one would ever know.

“In a moment. You go ahead.”

Alisa hurried inside.

The climate within the warehouse could be best described as frosty. Lord Cai and Lord Montagov were simply staring at each other from opposite sides of the room, both seated behind their respective tables on their halves of the warehouse.

There weren’t many people here, and though the warehouse was small, the attendee numbers were meager enough for the space to feel roomy. Alisa counted less than twenty on each side, which was good. Gangsters had dispersed themselves into small clumps, pretending to be in conversation, but really, each side was watching the other closely, waiting for the slightest indication of an ambush. At the very least, it was unlikely any of these gangsters would act without instruction from Lord Cai or Lord Montagov. This meeting had forbidden upper-tier members of both the Scarlet Gang and the White Flowers from attending unless they were in the inner circle. Those with power were harder to control. Meanwhile, the errand runners and messengers in attendance did what they were told and conveniently acted as human shields in case things got messy.

She spotted Roma in the corner, standing stoic and far from Benedikt and Marshall. When he caught sight of Alisa, he waved her over vigorously.

“About time.”

Roma handed her the jacket he had been carrying in his hands. He brought it along because he knew Alisa always forgot her jackets and inevitably ended up shivering in the cold.

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging on the jacket. “Has anything interesting happened yet?”

Alisa ran her eyes along the table on their side. Their father was seated icily. Beside him, Dimitri lounged back, one of his feet propped up against his other knee.

Roma shook his head.

“Why are you so late?”

Alisa swallowed hard. “I ran into someone interesting outside.”

As if the mere mention of her was a summoning, Juliette came through the door then. Heads turned in her direction, but she simply looked ahead, her eyes speaking of no emotion.